


Trial and Error

by Dexiha



Series: Drarry Drabbles [24]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Commander Auror Harry Potter, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Harry dies twice, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Major Character Undeath, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Nightmares, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Post-Hogwarts, Post-War, Ron and Draco love Harry, Sad Ending, Self-Hatred, harry gives up, mention of dark magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:07:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26667166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dexiha/pseuds/Dexiha
Summary: Harry's mental battle with himself is affecting his life... quite dramatically. And to be honest, he's losing the battle quite spectactularly.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: Drarry Drabbles [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/799809
Comments: 5
Kudos: 24





	Trial and Error

**Author's Note:**

> Please, mind the tags!
> 
> This little thing is my answer to [Ununquadius'](https://ununquadius.tumblr.com) Wireless fic; [How Can I Live Without You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24650548), because that fic broke my heart, and I wanted to break hers in return. And after stumbling upen the knowledge that she's scared of spiders, this unfolded in a note on my phone.

Everything was crawling. Around him. On him. In him. _Within his skin_.

This certainly wasn’t the place or time to have a breakdown, he knew that, but... it wasn’t as if he could actually plan when his world was going to fall apart. It wasn’t as if he had known when he woke up this morning, or that he’d decided “ah, today is the day I will lose my sanity in the middle of a battlefield of spiders”.

He wasn’t scared of spiders, not really. If he was, it would’ve been pretty stupid to get one as a pet. But now here he was standing in a dark, dark, dark room, with a locked door somewhere behind him, and everywhere around him, tiny hairy legs prickled back and forth, completely losing his mind.

He hated himself for it. He saved the world, he was the youngest Commander Auror ever, he was the Chosen One, and he couldn’t even handle a bunch of spiders.

He didn’t want to hurt them though. It wasn’t their fault he was broken. So when the crawling sensation within his skin caused him to start trembling, he just let go of his wand. Let it fall to the ground with a clatter. He wouldn’t be able to use it properly - or at all - anyway.

If possible, everything around him got even darker, he couldn’t see anything. The darkness felt heavy upon his shoulders, crushing him to the ground. His knees buckled, once. Twice. Three times before they gave up completely and he fell to the ground.

Clawing at his skin, trying to get rid of the itching sensation, pain suddenly shot through his arm. He welcomed it. It was something that grounded him. It was something he was comfortable with. He was used to it.

Though he also knew what would follow, and he did _not_ welcome that. He clung to the pain, in his mind reaching forward to it, not ready to let it go as the pictures started to appear in front of his eyes. The physical pain left him, and he was left cold, helplessly falling through nothing until...

////——\\\\\\\

He was back. Back where it all started. Back where Lily and James died protecting him. Back where their screams filled his ears.

He was back. Back where it all started, in the cupboard. Back where shouts about him being lazy echoed through a townhouse simultaneously as he heaved up what little food he had eaten previously in the morning. Back when he was sick and he was told it was his own fault.

He was back. Back where it all started, standing in front of a mirror. Back when his pocket was heavy - he wondered if it was heavy because of the stone or because of the secrets it held. The secrets he had. Back when he first heard that cold voice that still haunted him every night. Back when he had to become a soldier.

He was back. Back where it all started, where he talked to a murderer. Back when he realised he had a connection to a madman and he was blamed for those who turned to stone. Back when he first had to wield his power to the world and it hated him for it.

He was back. Back where it all started, where his pain did nothing to save the lifeless body of his older schoolmate. Back where the voice he hated became constant in his life. He was back in the first moment he blamed himself for someone’s death.

He was back. Back where it all started. Back where he tried to leave everyone behind and go end everything on his own. He didn’t want to, but he had to, because everyone that stayed around him ended up dead. Or hurt. Back when he realised everything was his fault, because he hadn’t actually stopped the Dark Lord when he was a baby.

He was back. Back where it all started. Or where it ended. The dark forest towered around him, casting frightening shadows upon the way he was walking. Back where the green curse hit him, the pain that followed, the death that wasn’t enough to save everyone. Back where he sacrificed himself but didn’t save _them_.

He hated himself. No matter how much good he did, how many crimes he stopped, how many criminals he put away, it was never enough. He was never enough. He hadn’t saved them. He failed.

He wanted the physical pain to come back, because that was what he deserved. He didn’t deserve to live happily ever after, as they wrote in the newspapers. He needed to pay. He had to suffer.

The spiders were still crawling around him, atop him. The crippling feeling in his skin was still there. And he knew that somewhere the Dark Potioneer he had been hunting was watching him, waiting for the poison to set in properly, to finally kill Harry Potter off.

He had known the poison was in the air even before he entered, but he hadn’t cared. It had been a long time since he cared about himself being a casualty. He wanted to just catch the other wizard so he couldn’t hurt anyone else.

Or maybe, he had entered the room nonetheless because he wanted to breathe in the magical chemicals. He wanted the wizard to succeed in his mission. Why else would he have gone here without alerting his partner, without calling for backup? Without telling anyone where he was going?

Each breath began to hurt, the foul air frying his trachea, eating is lungs. He welcomed the pain. He stopped trembling. He didn’t know if it was because his body couldn’t move anymore, that he was incapacitated, or if he just... let everything go. Let the darkness embrace him.

////——\\\\\\\

He was shaken. Forcing his eyes open, he met a storm cloud grey glare, steely eyes looking at him angrily. He groaned.

“Can’t a man be left alone to die in peace?” He grumbled.

“You fucker, you did die you know. _Again_.”

“Then why am I–”

“Do you know how many dark spells and potions and books I had to dig through and use to get you back?!” Draco’s voice was acidic, it was hard to imagine he was actually happy that he had saved Harry. _Again_.

“You didn’t have to.”

“Oh yes I did. But not alone. Ron helped me. He cast the spells.”

Draco levelled him with another stare.

“Don’t you _ever_ do something like that again.”

He didn’t answer because he couldn’t lie to Draco. And if he answered, he knew his words would be lies. He couldn’t promise that.

Draco knew what the silence meant, and he stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

That was the only thing he regretted, making Draco hurt like this. But he also knew the hurt would pass, that Draco would be better off without him.

Ron entered next, broad shoulders, jaw set in a proud stance. Eyes burning equally as much as Draco’s did.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered. He didn’t say anything else.

He didn’t need to say anything else. Though his eyes showed he was as angry as Draco, they also showed something Draco’s did not: expedience. Draco’s anger had been mixed with futility.

“He told me I died,” he muttered.

“You did. Again.” Ron said matter-of-factly.

“Why wouldn’t he– why wouldn’t you let me stay that way?”

“Because you deserve better. You deserve a life.”

There was no use in arguing, because if they did, Ron would convince him he was wrong, and he couldn’t let that happen. Because he didn’t _actually_ deserve that.

“But why did he go to such lengths for... me? We’re just partners,” he asked instead.

“Not to him.”

“What?”

“You better ask him about it. He’s the one that found you. He’s the one that spent months searching for the right spells and potions. He’s the one that preserved you, kept you safe. He’s the one that reached out to me when he couldn’t cast the spells because he couldn’t stand losing you. That’s not something you do to someone who’s just your partner.”

Ron was lying, surely. Draco didn’t care about him. Besides, it couldn’t be true, he hadn’t been dead for _months_.

He made the mistake of meeting Ron’s eye again, and he realised he was the one that was lying to himself. And he hated himself even more. He hurt Draco. Badly.

“Mate, listen. I don’t care much for that pointy prat. But he cares about you, and that’s more than enough for me. And I know you care about him too, so do me a favour and stop hurting him. And no, you won’t do that by ending up dead again. He wants... he _needs_ you close, alive. Get it into that thick head of yours that he loves you.”

It couldn’t be true, because if it was, Draco was running headfirst into his own grave. People who loved Harry ended up dying, being tortured, being hurt worse than what most people could imagine. He had to make Draco realise he couldn’t love him.

////——\\\\\\\

He drove Draco to and past his breaking point within a week. He made Draco lose his perfect composure, his stoic lift of his chin.

They were in an abandoned hotel room during a stakeout session, when he ended up having Draco shouting at him. And then he was kissing him. He didn’t really allow himself to, but he still found himself kissing him back. At some point, he tasted salt, and he hated himself for making Draco cry.

Then Draco whispered, “don’t you dare do that ever again, promise me,” and even though they had been fighting about Lucius and war and all the shit he had thrown in Draco’s face, they both knew Draco wasn’t referencing to that. It was about the past months, it was about his death(s).

The salty tears spread over his tongue as he kissed Draco’s cheek, his jawline. The taste lingered as he moved to kiss Draco’s throat. The taste lingered even after they both came, chasing each other to the end of the universe. The taste lingered even after Draco fell asleep, crawled up against his side, face hidden in the crook of his neck.

He kept watch and let the taste of salt be the guide to his best decision yet. He would stay, as long as he could, so he could keep Draco away from those tears. He would be better. He would be what Draco deserved. Or at least, he was going to try to be what Draco deserved. He didn’t have too much belief in himself, but fuck all, he was Harry Potter, the youngest Commander Auror ever, and even though he couldn’t handle a bunch of spiders, he would give his everything to save Draco from the pain.

////——\\\\\\\

It lasted half a year. Then he died again. And he simply didn’t let himself wake up again, because he had failed. He betrayed him. He didn’t deserve the happiness he had started to feel by Draco’s side the past months. So he chose the right thing; to leave him behind.

Safe.

Away from Harry Potter.

Goodnight Draco. 💚

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading. I applaude you for you have managed to read through the first thing I've written/finished writing this year.  
> Comments and kudos are very welcome.


End file.
